


there are better things than princes

by prosperas



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, dont @ me for this, no beta we die like men, warning for implied child abuse but I'm trying not to focus too much on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:51:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosperas/pseuds/prosperas
Summary: -- because we were not made for them.





	1. i.

ditching the party sends a thrill in him-- the coco adel, the one and only, out with him, the nightmare under her nose. she takes him somwhere quiet, away from the alcohol. a small cafe nestled near the quiet side of town, where they apparently don’t get much customers (well, maybe besides coco. they seem to brighten up when the pair enters for a drink. he learns why when she tips… excessively).

they’re having a dumb conversation about beacon, which turns into thinly veiled attacks on each other’s skills during the tournament, and-- 

“ are you up for a challenge, mercury black? ” she’s leveling him with a stare that leaves his mouth dry, brown (like earth, warmth, something he can’t quite place). a hint of mischief, and then his own pride, it makes him agree with a smirk. 

but it’s surprise when she tugs on his collar, surprise that turns into shock as glossy lips barely touch the corner of his own and a “ you owe me one ” whispered in his ear before she’s gone. smiling, head tilted, and off with the wind.

he buries his heart before it can beat treacherously against his chest. still finds himself unable to wipe off the lipgloss.


	2. ii.

the first time they go out, they’re standing in the fairgrounds in light of the end of the doubles round. golden lights wash over the both of them and there’s a bit of a chill in the air, but apparently not enough for the heiress to take them some place warmer. she’s smiling up at the sky though, devoid of fireworks from the first night of the festival, and he can’t quite place a finger as to _**WHY**_. he watches from the corner of his eye, and it nearly startles him when she turns and she says nothing-- stares with a tilted head and moving glossy lips and _he remembers what they felt like after the first **taste** of them, something between **wanting** and **craving** blurred the time he backed her into a wall after hunting her down--_

“ congratulations, ” he hears her say. “ you’ve bested beacon’s best today. ” and she **smiles at losing, at being humiliated in front of her fanbase. brushes it off like it’s nothing (but he’s sure that it’s actually not to her), and here she is. with the one who beat her on a date. **

****

****

a second one, his pride tells him with a smug and triumphant smile that he now wears. Enough to sling an arm on her shoulder, chuckling, stifling the side of him that wants another stolen taste of her lipgloss. 

“ yeah, no problem, ” is what he says, and she laughs.


	3. iii.

he takes her out one last time, before the chaos and mayhem to come the next day.

there’s a certain chill in the air like the gods know what’s coming, but he persists until they reach the quiet park he’s found while scouting. it’s not grand or fancy by **_any_** means, but judging her delight at the slight wildness, it’s something she needs. maybe craves.

the sun is setting and he needs to be back soon, but the quiet and her wamrth begs him to stay. the peace makes him nervous, on edge-- the calm before the storm he wants to keep her from-- no. he shouldn’t.

he doesn’t want to go back to that. he doesn’t **_need_** to, if he keeps himself in check, and reminds himself of their goal. 

he can’t waste time like this, yet he doesn’t leave either.


	4. iv.

he can’t help but watch after her during the fall.

cold, precise, _angry_ \-- he has never seen such a protective streak on her before. watches her defend the school and the throne that ozpin built himself, watches her help the innocent like it’s nothing.

he trails after her, just out of sight. it’s stupid and he’s sure to get reprimanded by cinder for doing this but he can’t help himself. it’s to make sure that she’s not too good, he reasons weakly. doesn’t dare think of the alternative.

shouting draws his attention back to the present, and trembling hands curl up into fists as he watches her. desperate and scared and-- **_loving_** , he realizes with a start, at a fallen teammate. the bunny, the faunus, and he feels his heart tighten at the way she ffights with a new vigor.

he leaves. tells emerald to shut it, avoid’s cinder’s narrowed eyes. wastes all his flares training that night, desperate to get rid of the thought of her.

he’ll never see her again. he tells himself that it’s over, that she’s nothing now, with their goal ever closer.

~~it’s not true, a part of him whispers, and he buries it alongside his heart.~~


	5. v.

she leaves the window open for him, howling wind and cold snow making it’s way into the atlesian manor (though, he notes, it’s already pretty cold), the library echoing with his footsteps. he, in turn, stares at what she’s become in the candlelight.

he can’t find a glimmer of her courage, her stubbornness, her pride, her strength, her -- just her. **gone**. she turns to look at him and he finds himself staring at eyes he doesn’t know. eyes he’s never seen with such startling clarity, hidden behind too dark sunglasses and emotions tucked away with a confident grin.

he finds himself telling her to leave before it gets too bad. she bitterly asks if he even _knows_ why she came in the first place. why he cares, why he’s even here, because her father would kill him if he knew some lowlife (he reads hunter-in-training in the way her eyes falter) was waltzing about with his heiress.

he hides the burning anger, the way it seizes him and sets him on fire, blames it on his hurt pride even when her words don’t sting. instead he tells her he’s here to check on a friend.

he doesn’t miss the way she crumbles a little. he tells himself it’s better for her to stay out of it.


	6. vi.

and yet he’s back with an offer to leave, just for a night.

she doesn’t speak at first, even when she falters and freezes at his voice, turning ever so slightly from the window. another burning course of anger, but he forces it down, tells himself it’s no good, that he doesn’t need to concern himself in her matters **too much**. 

“ at what cost? ” is her question, quiet and hushed like she was afraid her parents might hear. “ why would i do this to risk their anger, my freedom? ” he hates how weak she sounds (or maybe it’s the grip that chokes her, her parents own chains forcing her down).

‘ payback ’ is not a good answer. “ getting a bite at freedom again, ” is what he says.

he doesn’t miss the way she brightens a little, doesn’t miss the way the edges of her lip twitches just a bit. 

he tells himself it’s the last time.


	7. vii.

he stands with her, just at the edge of what was once an abandoned house, now burning to ashes. from the grimm, from the weather, maybe. vacuo’s not that hospitable, he muses.

at least she’d spoken, though. admitted through tears and anger and broken voices and sobs and arguing as to why she was here, in atlas, with her family. “ i don’t want to be,” she’d screamed, and he nearly faltered from the angry tears that cut tracks through the light grime on her face. “ brothers know i’d rather be with my team-- but i couldn’t, i couldn’t, don’t remind me of how i couldn’t **_BE THERE_**! ” 

and suddenly they’re standing shoulder to shouder, hands touching but not, burning their eyes with the memory of the flame. their fight stopped long ago, long after he told her he wouldn’t judge her. and maybe, from the way her hand brushes against his, he actually wouldn’t.

would ~~finally~~ actually mean something with all his buried heart. 

it scares him. he doesn’t bother trying to stifle it though.


	8. viii.

her hands are trembling, he notes duly.

“ look at me, ” he coaxes, gentle. so gentle it scares him and surprises her, if the way her head whips up to him is anything to think about. he’s surprsied she doesn’t crack her neck. “ it’s gonna be okay. i’ll be back, you won’t have to deall with the aftermath alone. not for long. i’m not leaving you behind. ” 

“ you don’t know him, ” she says, utterly defeated and terrified in a way that makes his heart freeze. “ he’ll-- they’ll-- ”

“ you don’t regret coming with me,” he points out, and she goes silent. “ and i do know. i-- ” he stops, he hasn’t-- told anyone directly in years. he watches her bring up a hesitant hand to his face, ‘ can i? ’ flashing on hers. just once, just once he presses his cheek into it. lets himself revel in the warmth, the way fingers still against his face.

they don’t speak for the rest of the night.


	9. ix.

“ sorry, ” he says, voice hoarse as he brushes a thumb over her cheek, skin hot and angry to the touch. animosity is familiar in the way she flinches, but a sort of… relief, maybe, stills him when she doesn’t pull away. “ i should have been there. ”

“ i’ll get you out, ” he finds himself saying suddenly, quickly, all at once. “ i’ll get you out under whatever circumstances, damn the consequences. you don’t deserve this, you need to heal some place else, you need your team-- ”

“ shut up, ” is her desperate reply. “ i’ll be okay as long as you’re here. ” it’s enough for him to stop rambling as gentle hands tug on his collar. carefuly, slowly, pressing his forehead against hers as her eyes shut. “ i can’t leave. Not yet, i’m not finished with what needs to be done. ” and she shushes him, when he opens his mouth, and the flimmer of hope in her eyes makes him wonder if she buried her heart before coming to atlas. “ but if you’re here, i won’t lose myself to my parents. you are my _**ANCHOR**_ \-- ” 

“ -- and i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me. ”

a lie. a promise he’d break, soon enough when he’s beckoned to leave. 

~~but is it bad he wants to keep it?~~


End file.
